Chapter 6

I tore my eyes away from the gun. “So when do I leave?” I asked Ethan. Now that I’d made my decision, I was anxious to get started. Maybe so I couldn’t change my mind. This was something either of my adoptive parents would have done in a heartbeat. They’d spent all their lives looking after others, and a chance to help two women or to prove Harmony Farm harmless would have been irresistible. I was glad to follow in their footsteps.

Ethan smiled. “Well, you could ask them tomorrow when they’ll be leaving town. They might be expecting you to show up again after your conversation with them today. Once they know you want to join, they’ll probably suggest that you make certain preparations to leave. You know, see loved ones for the last time—without telling them you’re leaving, of course—collect any valuables, clean out your bank account.” His voice had turned from informative to bitter. I hoped he didn’t use that tone with his impressionable students.

“I don’t have any money—not that I’m willing to give them, anyway.”

“Don’t people take a lot of time to recruit?” Jake asked. “Are they really going to believe Autumn decided to join in only one day?”

Ethan ran his finger over the barrel of his gun, which for some reason made my heart beat a little faster—though not from fear. There is something intrinsically powerful about a man holding a gun. “From what I’ve seen of this cult over the past year, they’ll invite you to meet with them at the hotel where they’re staying, introduce you around, and find out your weaknesses so they can exploit them to get you to join. It’s all pretty methodical. Most people seem to take a full month or more to join, but I have seen people join after one weekend of meetings. It may not make sense to you or me, because we’re emotionally balanced, but for people on the edge, or people who’ve undergone a recent tragedy or a change in their life, it can make all the sense in the world.”

“So basically they’re all wackos,” Bret said.

Ethan shook his head. “Not really. Cults may attract a lot of desperate and needy people, but a lot of regular people get involved as well. Some experts claim we have more than three thousand cults in the United States alone. Still, it’s true they do prey upon the emotionally fragile.”

Emotionally fragile. I wondered how long it took for a math teacher to become easy saying such phrases.

“Autumn, this isn’t funny,” Jake growled.

I hadn’t realized I was grinning. “I don’t think it is.” I sank into the chair next to Jake.

“As for the money,” Ethan continued as though we hadn’t spoken, “I’ve saved a bit that you can offer them to throw off suspicion. But money won’t be their sole objective because they obviously need people to work for them. They must rake in a pretty penny with all those unpaid laborers.”

I pulled up my feet onto the chair and wrapped my arms around my legs. “What if you never get the money back? I mean, what if they’re exactly what they seem and there’s no fraud going on beside underpayment of workers? With three thousand cults around, there have to be some that aren’t destructive influences. Many communes, for instance, fit the cult description but do only good for their members.”

“Not Harmony Farm.” Ethan was shaking his head and frankly looking good enough to make me wonder if he had a girlfriend. Stop it, I told myself. “I’m sure they’re dirty,” he added. “They’ve gone to too many pains to hide their real operation. Besides, the money means nothing compared to finding my sister and getting her the help she needs. I don’t care if I don’t get it back as long as we find Marcie.”

I wondered how he’d feel about going barefoot. Or if he’d mind having a girlfriend who did.

“I still don’t like it,” Jake muttered.

I smiled at him confidently. “It’ll be okay.”

Ethan began repacking his equipment into a black briefcase wide enough to hold the gun and the holster. “I’d like to go over some things with you before you talk to them,” he said to me, “and then again after you tell them you’re joining. Once we know when they’re pulling out and what their plans are regarding your membership, we can organize a plan of attack. I can give you a lift home tonight so we can talk—unless you drove your own car, of course.” His eyes met mine, the intense blue holding a message that had nothing to do with Harmony Farm. He wanted to see me alone. For what purpose, I was willing to find out.

How convenient that I hadn’t driven my car. I opened my mouth to accept, but Jake beat me to it. “I’m taking her home. We have plans.”

We did? Riding home on his bike wasn’t exactly a plan. I glanced at Tawnia for help, but she shrugged, her mouth curved in an amused smile. Good thing someone was getting enjoyment out of this.

Ethan nodded. “Okay, tomorrow morning then. I’ll drop by your shop.” He finished packing his things and scooped up both the briefcase and the duffel with Marcie’s belongings. “Nice to meet everyone.”

He met my gaze again for a long moment, while I silently berated Jake for his interference. In the past Jake had always been helpful when I became interested in a new guy. What was his problem now?

When Ethan had gone, I said good-bye to Bret and a still-worried Tawnia, grabbed my handbag, and went out to Jake’s bike.

He put on his black leather jacket after first offering it to me. Then he straddled the bike and motioned for me to climb on behind him.

I shook my head. “Why did you tell Ethan I couldn’t go with him?”

His jaw hardened. “We had plans to go for a ride, didn’t we?”

“Well, yes, but it’s not as if . . . I mean, you said yourself that we’re . . . Sheesh, Jake, he’s, well, hot. And I like him. I mean, now that he’s not being a jerk. I think he likes me, too.”

“Of course he does,” Jake said stiffly. “But you know nothing about him.”

“Yes, I do. And so do you. He’s a math teacher turned private eye, whose sister is missing.”

“So he says.” Jake arched a brow.

That irritated me. After all, I wasn’t completely stupid. “I felt his sister’s loss, and I saw him in her imprint. I know she joined the commune at Harmony Farm.”

“Look, Autumn.” Jake’s voice was strained. “You’ve seen and experienced a lot, but for all the things you’ve done in your life, for all the variety of people you’ve met, you’ve basically remained untouched by the really bad stuff. I don’t know if that was Winter’s influence or if your own energy attracts the better sort of people, but Harmony Farm is connected to two missing women, who could be dead or worse, and you don’t seem to be taking this seriously.”

I wanted to tell him to mind his own blasted business, that I’d spent time with more druggies and criminals than he’d likely glimpsed in his entire lifetime. But the truth was, he was right. For all my odd schooling and the strange characters that had marched in and out of my life over the years, I’d been set apart, untouchable, as Winter’s daughter. People had come to him—and Summer when she’d been alive—with broken, seemingly irreparable lives, and he had given them herbs, found them places to stay and a job to do. Most of all he’d loved them, and that love had evoked a deep loyalty.

People still showed up at the Herb Shoppe to repay me for something Winter or Summer had done for them. A new shelf for my antiques, repairs for my car, a knitted sweater, a box of food, pottery, and even jewelry. Of course, some hadn’t been able to scrape the pieces of their lives back together, and others had cracked again after Winter’s repairs, but none of these had ever dragged me into their dirt, though I’d slept in the same apartment with many of them.

I took a deep breath, so filled both with longing and with anger at the man who’d been my father, longing for his presence and protection, anger at his desertion, however unintentional, that I couldn’t separate the emotions in my mind. Tears popped out of the corners of my eyes, and I looked away from Jake so he wouldn’t see.

Too late. He was off his bike and reaching for me. “Autumn?” he asked tentatively.

“I miss Winter so much,” I whispered.

Jake had stopped short of touching me, but now he drew me into his arms. I smelled the leather of his jacket, the faint aroma of cinnamon and comfrey from the store, and a hint of aftershave. Aftershave? He normally only used that when we went dancing at the club.

I let myself cry for a while in his arms. His strong presence filled me up, sealing all the cracks in my inner walls where the despair had oozed in. The anger at Winter disappeared and the longing faded, not completely but enough. Then I was feeling something else entirely, something that tingled down to my toes and made the world stop turning. For that moment I was completely happy and would have been content to sit down on Tawnia’s grass and sleep there all night with Jake’s arms around me.

Not possible, of course. I shook myself, remembering who I was with. My friend Jake. Wiping my tears, I stepped back from him and smiled. I’d never been great at hiding my emotions, but Tawnia was good at it—at least when she wasn’t pregnant—and I had learned a thing or two from her in the past year. Watching her was every bit as good as practicing in a mirror.

“Thanks for being such a good friend.” My voice was a little stiff, but it was either that or cry again. Or throw myself at him—and that was out of the question.

He gave a sharp nod. “I’ll always be here for you.”

That made me sad, because if he could promise that, there really was nothing between us besides friendship. You never knew for sure whether a romantic interest would end in a breakup, but a friend was a longtime investment. Unless, I supposed, you decided to marry each other, as Tawnia and Bret had. Then both friendship and romance had the chance to endure.

Placing my handbag over my head and shoulder so it wouldn’t go flying, I silently put on Jake’s extra helmet, climbed onto the back of his motorbike, and slid my arms around his waist. The helmet didn’t go around my chin, so once I lifted up the visor, I could press the front part of my cheek against the back of his leather jacket. I felt his solid form, the warmth of him. I wondered if he was as aware of me and my touch, or if I was like his little sister, Randa. At that thought, my eyes pushed out a few more tears, but I didn’t let go of him to wipe them away.

In the next moment we were off, the air beating against my face and blowing it dry. Exhilaration quickly replaced the sadness, and I knew Jake had picked this nearly deserted road on purpose for the high speed we could achieve. We rode for an hour, until the summer night became cool and I had to tuck my hands under his jacket to keep them warm. He turned in the direction of home.

We pulled up at my apartment, and I eased myself off the bike, my muscles having grown stiff. The night was warm now that we’d stopped, and I flexed my fingers so the cold would leave them more quickly. “That was great,” I told Jake, as we both removed our helmets.

“Better than going with Ethan?”

“I know you aren’t happy about what I want to do, but I have a chance to help those women. Winter would understand.”

Jake’s lips pursed, and that did funny things to my heart. Jake had great lips, full and generous and inviting. I’d always thought so, even before I’d begun falling for him.

“I understand why, Autumn. But I still don’t like it, and I don’t trust Ethan.”

“Why?”

Jake frowned. “I don’t want to see you hurt.”

“He’s not going to hurt me.”

“How do you know? I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

“Oh.” This was interesting. “How does he look at me?”

“Like . . . like he wants something.”

“I hate to break it to you, but he does want something. He wants me to help find his sister.”

He looked ready to say something more but finally shook his head and sighed. “I just worry you’re getting in over your head. This is all my fault. I’m the one who brought the Fullmers to see you.”

So that was the real story. He was feeling guilty because none of this would have happened if he hadn’t opened the door. “You also agreed that I should try to help people with my ability. What else could I do to really help them?”

“I don’t know.”

The parking lot light nearest us was burned out so we were in the dark, close together. I wished I had the nerve to step even closer. He let out the breath he’d been holding, and I could feel a hint of its warmth. Something built inside me, but I wasn’t sure what it was.

An engine backfiring reverberated in the darkness, and I started, like an animal caught in a sudden light. “I guess I’d better go inside.”

“Want me to walk you?”

I shook my head. Despite the broken light, this was a relatively safe area. I knew all the neighbors in my apartment building and most of those in the surrounding ones, by sight if not by name. Since Winter’s death, everyone had gone out of their way to show me kindness, as though they shared my tragedy. Of course the bridge collapse had brought the entire city closer. Because I’d survived the bombing, I had become something of an icon to my neighbors, a symbol of hope and survival.

Jake hugged me quickly and got on his bike, though he waited to put on his helmet until I reached the lobby doors. The street light near the building worked, and I used it to find the keys inside my purse. My hand had scarcely closed around them when the door clicked open with a soft buzz. I smiled and waved at the windows above me, though I couldn’t see a face in them. Probably old Mrs. Turnbull was watching TV in her bedroom and had called for her husband to release the lobby latch. We all looked out for each other that way. I often opened the door to the kids on the top floor because some of them didn’t have outside keys.

I shouldered my handbag, keys out now, and slapped on the lobby light with the palm of my hand. Outside, Jake’s bike engine revved as he sped away. “Oh, Jake,” I whispered.

Oh, Jake, what? I didn’t know.

I went up the three lobby steps and turned left toward my apartment on the main floor. I’d passed the tiny elevator and was halfway to my door when I realized I wasn’t alone.

“Jake?” I looked around to see if he’d followed me inside after all. He had his own keys to both the lobby doors and my apartment since he was forever watering my herbs and plants when I went out of town hunting antiques.

No Jake.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a movement. A figure shot toward me from the direction of my door, ramming into me. I barely had time to register fear before my head hit the wall and I crumpled to the ground in the pain. For a moment I actually saw stars. Before I had time to decide if I was going to live, the figure was on top of me, weighing far too much for his thin, wiry build.

“You should stay away from the farm,” hissed the voice. “Far away.”

My vision cleared enough to show me Inclar, the man I’d followed from the river.

“Maybe I want to join them,” I said through gritted teeth.

“You won’t leave the same—if you leave at all.”

His right eye was rolling like crazy, though his left was steady enough. His hands were at my throat, but they weren’t choking me. Yet.

“Get off,” I managed.

His hands tightened, and his face came close to mine. I gagged at the sourness of his breath, but I didn’t know if it was from booze or from not brushing his teeth, or both. Gray and brown stubble covered his cheeks, and at this close range I could see each individual hair. I choked as the lobby began to grow dark. Ten feet from my door and safety. Not a pretty way to die. I clawed at him. I could no longer smell his noxious breath because I couldn’t breathe. My body screamed for want of oxygen.

“No,” Inclar said, “I don’t want to kill her. She’s sees.”

No one else was in the lobby. Who was he talking to?

“I won’t do it.” His hands relaxed marginally. The eye still rolled loosely in his head, and his face was pale and frightened. A sob escaped his throat. I tried to move, but his fingers were like small steel rods pinning me in place. “Please don’t make me,” he said, whining like a beaten man.

I’d dropped my keys when I fell, but I stretched for them now, hoping to use them as a weapon. Inclar contorted his body and kicked them away with his foot. His contortion gave me an idea. With effort, I brought up my legs and managed to curl one foot around him, pushing him away with all the strength I had left. For a moment we held steady, and black patches filled half my sight. Then Inclar yelped and fell back.

At once he scrabbled to a crouched position, hands curled out before him like claws. I drew in a ragged breath, wondering how I was going to defend myself. He launched, but this time his body hurtled past me, down the three steps to the lobby, and out the door into the night.

The world went dark.

Just the light in the lobby going out, but I was shaken enough to huddle on the floor against the wall for a moment to regain my strength. As the cold from the marble floor seeped into my body, I slowly took stock of my limbs. Nothing seemed broken, though my head pounded and my throat was sore. A tiny patch of light from the street light filtered through the glass door in the lobby. I moved, kicking something with a foot. My keys. I crawled to them, and then to my door, fear and pain making me sluggish. I didn’t sense anyone in the lobby, but I couldn’t be sure Inclar wouldn’t return.

Why was I even still alive? He’d seemed intent on killing me. Or at least half of him had.

At last I closed my apartment door behind me, locking it. I sagged against the door, swallowing in relief. My throat hurt less now, and the quiet buzz of my antiques filled the room with comforting images.

I should call the police. I knew where Inclar lived—if he was stupid enough to return there—and they could pick him up and question him.

Something white registered in the corner of my vision. Unsteadily, I turned my head to see a business envelope partially crumpled from being shoved under my door. SAVE THEM was written across the back of the envelope in unsteady block letters. I reached for the envelope, dragging it toward where I sat. There was something heavy inside. I opened the envelope with shaking fingers, and an old-fashioned brass key fell out on the floor, the metal darkened with use. For the moment I let it stay where it was because there was also a letter-sized piece of paper with a map of the area near Oregon’s border, complete with a large X in yellow highlighter. Shaky words at the bottom proclaimed: They would kill me if they knew you had this.

What was going on? Inclar had obviously slipped this under my door. How else could it have gotten here? But then why try to kill me? Or had he followed someone else here—perhaps one of the farm’s disciples?

No, they didn’t even know my name. Come to think of it, how had Inclar known where I lived? Yet as I considered, I realized Inclar’s finding me wasn’t really a mystery. He lived in the area and could have seen me in the shop. Since many of my fellow shop owners knew where I lived, especially following the publicity of Winter’s death, anyone could have traced me with a few questions. Yet why give me a map and a key and then try to kill me? He was a psychopath at best and probably schizophrenic on top of that.

There was no imprint on either the envelope or the map, which told me this wasn’t a treasured object or something that had been touched very often or for long, despite the obvious feeling behind the scrawled words.

I picked up the key. At once intense images shot through my head in a rapid, blurry succession. Darkness. Pain. Laughter. Evil. A slap on the face. Fingers bleeding from the stab of a needle. Power and conquest. Agony. Triumph. A corpse.

My fingers opened, and the key slipped back into the envelope. I swallowed hard, my heart pounding erratically. This was the second object I’d come across that held such intense and rapid conflict that my brain couldn’t process anything with any degree of intelligence. The first time had been days after Winter’s funeral. I’d fainted then.

Rising, I stumbled unsteadily across the room to the couch, falling over the back and sprawling onto the cushions, too tired to go around. I set the envelope on the antique coffee table and the map on top of that. My handbag I let slide to the floor. Pulling Summer’s multicolored afghan over me, I basked in the imprint of her memories that washed gently over me like warm, soothing water. They were so gentle and faint that sometimes I wondered if they were only my memories and no longer imprints at all.

After a while, I reached out and took Summer’s picture from the coffee table. This imprint was stronger. I felt a rush of love, saw thin, familiar fingers on the frame. Winter’s fingers. I’d replaced the glass that had shattered when I dropped it on the day of his funeral, but the imprints on the gold and black frame were unchanged. Silly to have reacted so strongly when I’d been raised to think of the world being capable of communication on many different levels—spiritual and physical. Winter and Summer would both love the idea of imprints.

Exhaustion lay heavily upon my shoulders, but I knew I should call someone. Jake? No. He’d just be more set against my participation in this whole thing. Too bad, because he was my first choice. He could stay with me all night, sleeping in Winter’s room or on the couch. But because the attack was wrapped up with Harmony Farm, I knew I couldn’t call him without raising more objections to my plan. Same with Tawnia and Bret. The people in my building and my friends from work couldn’t begin to understand what was going on. So far none of them had even a hint about my paranormal ability. Better to rest now and figure things out in the morning.

A creaking came from the apartment above me. Or was it coming from my place? Maybe someone was in my kitchen or in one of the two bedrooms. I looked around for something to use as a weapon. Not my antique vase or the ogre statue. They were too valuable.

The sounds stopped, but I found myself clutching Summer’s picture, my hands shaking. This was going to be a long night.

I had Ethan’s business card out of my purse and was dialing the phone before I realized it.

“Hello?”

“It’s Autumn. I’m sorry to bother you this late.” My throat ached at the effort to speak, and my voice sounded husky even to my ears.

“It’s barely ten.”

“Oh.” It seemed much later to me.

“Are you all right? You’re not having second thoughts?”

“Someone was outside my apartment tonight. That guy I told you all about during dinner, the brother of that leader—not the leader in Marcie’s imprint, but the younger one I met today. Anyway, his brother left a map under my door. At least I think it was him.”

“A map?” Ethan’s voice was eager. “Of what?”

“It’s not marked, but there’s some cryptic wording about his being killed if he they knew I had it, which is sort of stupid since I thought he was going to kill me before I even saw it.”

“He hurt you?”

“I must have startled him when I got home. I think he’s a little nuts.” I explained the attack and how Inclar had debated with himself whether or not to kill me.

“I wondered what was up with your voice,” he said. “I wish I had been there.”

“Me, too.”

“What he wrote on the envelope seems to indicate someone needs saving.”

“I agree. But who?” I was feeling steadier now that he was on the line. I scooped up an antique vase and checked out the bedrooms. No one there, and the windows were closed. The tiny kitchen was also empty, my tall frame of herbs against the window undisturbed, the familiar smells welcoming me like an old friend. A cup of camomile tea was what I needed for both my sore throat and my nerves. I set down the vase and put the water on the stove to boil.

“Has to be the rebellious disciples, I’d say,” Ethan replied, answering my questions. “Who else would need saving?”

“I thought about going to the police, but I worried that would get in the way of what we were trying to do.”

“Maybe it would help.”

“Maybe.”

“Then again you could be right. If he’s obviously crazy and we have him arrested, his brother might come to get him out on bail, or whatever.”

“And my chances of joining Harmony Farm would probably be nil.”

“Yes, your identity could be compromised. But what if he tries to hurt you again?”

“Well, I’m not going to open the door for him.” I took down a mug from the cupboard.

“Don’t open it for anyone.”

I snorted. “Not even my sister?” A loud horn sounded from his end, and I wondered if he lived near a freeway or large road.

“Well, of course.”

We laughed.

“So about the map,” he said. “Is it legible?”

I went back to the living room to retrieve it. “Looks like a photocopy—a poor one. I don’t recognize any of the landmarks, though there is a main road down at the very bottom. The 95, I think.”

“That goes through Rome.”

“Just a minute, and I’ll check it against my own map.”

I plucked my Oregon map from the bookshelf and took it to the kitchen. The water was hot, so I poured it into my cup and plopped in a bag of camomile tea. Winter had used only loose tea, but I thought tea bags were one of man’s greatest inventions. Letting the tea steep, I spread the map onto the table.

“Well?” asked Ethan, who was understandably anxious.

I had to search for a moment. “Yeah, I think it is there. Like I said, the photocopy is kind of poor, and my map doesn’t show a lot of details, but I bet we could find it from this.”

“Maybe you wouldn’t need to join them after all.”

“You think you’d be able to find your sister if you watched the place?”

He sighed. “You’re right. She might not be in view. Without someone on the inside, it’d be hard to tell if they are what they appear to be. They aren’t going to be abusing anyone in the open, even if the place itself is hidden.”

I hadn’t exactly been implying any of that, but he did have a point. I didn’t mind letting him think I had come to that conclusion before he did. All was fair in love and war. I smiled, knowing which I hoped this might be. Intelligence, finger-attracting hair, a smile that made my heart beat faster, and a steady job. What more could a girl want?

“I’ll make you a copy of the map at work tomorrow,” I told Ethan.

“Thank you. I’d like that.”

“Well, I guess I’d better let you go.”

“I don’t like the idea of you being alone. Maybe you should call your sister.”

“She’d be freaked out, especially now with all the hormones.”

“What about that guy. Jake, was it? I got the feeling you two are, uh, close.”

I frowned. “He’s like a brother to me.” Unfortunately.

“A brother.” Ethan sounded glad, and that made me feel better.

More small talk while another idea occurred to me. I turned on the computer I’d crammed in a corner of the kitchen next to the washer piled high with dirty clothes. With a little help from technology, I might be able to find myself a better map. Tawnia, who was miles ahead of me in technology, always turned to the Internet when she had a dilemma, and she always found what she was looking for.

It took me less time than I expected. I’d only finished half my tea before I was able to pinpoint a dark patch of green on the interactive map that I thought might be the location of Harmony Farm.

“It’s a lot clearer on the Internet,” I told Ethan triumphantly. “I mean, it’s just a patch of trees—I can’t see any buildings or anything, but that might be because they’re hidden or the satellite picture is old.” I sent the file to my e-mail address, planning to print it at work since I didn’t have a printer in the apartment.

“Great. That’s really going to help.”

Help him, maybe. Because for me being able to find it on a map and in real life were two completely different things. I was hopelessly directionally impaired, another trait I shared with my sister. Bret had finally insisted that Tawnia use a GPS, and it had made her life easier. A GPS wouldn’t do any good in this instance, though, since I didn’t have exact coordinates.

I turned off the computer, my eyes heavy. I decided to finish the tea in the living room under my mother’s afghan. “Look, thanks for everything, Ethan. We’d better hang up now.” Why did I feel so ridiculously close to this man I really didn’t know?

“Go open your door,” he said.

“What?”

“Open it.”

I went to the door and peered through the peephole. Ethan was standing outside, smiling, with his phone at his ear. My gaze flitted to the clock to see that we’d been on the phone more than forty-five minutes. Still, he’d made good time; at normal speeds he lived forty-five minutes from Tawnia’s and my apartment was fifteen minutes farther.

“There’s a man outside my door,” I said. “He might be here to attack me.”

“I don’t think so. He might actually protect you.”

“How did you find me?”

He laughed, a sound I could hear through both the phone and the door. “I’m a private investigator, aren’t I?”

I let him in, embarrassed to be so happy to see him and glad that I wouldn’t have to jump at every creak in this old building all night long. “Thanks for coming.”

“I came for the map.”

“Whatever.”

“Tea?” I indicated my cup.

“No thanks.”

We talked a while at the kitchen table, poring over the map, until I could no longer hide my huge yawns. “You go on to bed.” He opened his jacket to show the gun in his shoulder holster. “I’ll keep a lookout.”

My stomach felt queasy at the idea of having such a thing in my house. A killing thing. But he was sweet to have driven all this way, and I really didn’t know what Inclar might be capable of.

“Okay,” I said, all joviality gone. “Good night.” I touched his arm as I arose, a simple gesture of thanks. At least that’s what it was supposed to be. His scent drifted to my nose. Something masculine and incredibly attractive. He looked up at me, his expression acute. The tension between us grew so thick, I had no doubt at all that we were both experiencing the same emotion. I liked this man, for all that I didn’t really know him.

I lifted my hand and stepped back. Sometimes I actually manage to make the right decision, saving myself later embarrassment—or worse.

“Good night,” Ethan said, his voice low. I felt his eyes follow me to the door, and I smiled to myself.

In my own room, I locked the door, shed my outer clothing, and fell into bed. Sleep settled over me, and the last thing I thought about wasn’t Jake’s comforting arms or Ethan’s intense stare but Inclar’s eye rolling uncontrollably in his head. And the key that was sitting inside the envelope on my coffee table.

In all the excitement with the map, I’d completely forgotten the key.